


As Long as We're Going Down, Baby, You Should Stick Around

by Silver_Moon_Lit_Forest



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Lives, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Best Boyfriends, Confessions, Cuddles, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Making Love, Nightmares, Post-Nogitsune, Scott is oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 12:12:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3134039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silver_Moon_Lit_Forest/pseuds/Silver_Moon_Lit_Forest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Stiles beings to avoid and cling to Scott in turn after defeating the nogitsune, Scott corners him and ends up seeing a lot more of Stiles in the coming weeks than he'd ever expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long as We're Going Down, Baby, You Should Stick Around

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering if you've read this fic before, you might have. I posted it a while back, but was unhappy with how it turned out, so I finally broke down and deleted it so I could rewrite some bits and pieces of it and fix it up. I fixed some discrepancies and re did the whole sex scene, which I kept and plan to do another fic based around at a later time. Heck, maybe it'll even be a prequel kinda thing from when they first became friends with benefits. 
> 
> This is definitely unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title taken from MS MR song "Dark Doo Wop." 
> 
> Tagged as underage because neither of them are 18 yet.

When Scott woke up, the first thing he registered was the fact that he’d actually slept through the night. And into the afternoon if the sun heating one side of his face was anything to go by. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a restful nights sleep since before the nogitsune mess started. His first waking thought for the last two weeks had been about Stiles; protecting Stiles, bringing Stiles back, protecting people from Stiles...Just Stiles.

The thought of his best friend woke him completely, and Scott’s senses went on high alert only to realise Stiles was right beside him. Scott hesitated, not wanting to open his eyes and have this be some kind of waking dream. He didn’t think he could take it after they’d been through so much recently. Thinking he was going to lose Stiles twice was more than enough for one lifetime, thank you very much.

If it was a dream, it was a really vivid one. Scott could hear Stiles’ evened breathing, his heart rate that little bit higher than a normal person’s, even in sleep; he could smell the soap he’d borrowed from Scott’s shower last night because no one had wanted to bother going farther than Scott’s house. In fact, he could smell the rest of his pack gathered around them, all of their heart rates slowed in sleep.

Scott blinked open his eyes to find Stiles curled on his side facing him. His face was slack with sleep, breathing through his open mouth. Stiles had always been a mouth breather. Scott smiled at the sight. He’d worried for a while that he might not ever see it again.

Scott remembered coming in after they’d defeated the nogitsune, piling all the blankets and pillows in the house on the living room floor while his mom tapped up Allison’s side and Aiden’s chest. They’d taken turns showering. Stiles had taken the longest of them all; his skin had been rubbed red and raw when he’d finally came back down stairs. The image of him was still stuck in Scott’s mind. The borrowed shirt hung loose around him and the old sleep pants they’d raided Scott’s closet for were nearly falling off of him. Stiles had never had much weight to lose in the first place. Now Scott didn’t know if he’d ever pack it back on again.

They’d moved closer together in their sleep, bending towards one another until only a few inches remained between them. Their hands were flung out between them, Scott’s knuckles just brushing Stiles’ fingers. Scott could see Lydia’s arm thrown over Stiles’ middle, and knew Allison was pressed up behind her with Isaac at her back just from the way their hearts sounded. Aiden had curled around the top of their heads, as close as he could get to Lydia without being pressed between her and Stiles. Kira was pressed against his back, Malia probably wrapped in her arms. Derek was just on the other side of them with Cora and Ethan.

Scott let himself drift back off. The sounds and the smell of his pack surrounding him calmed his wolf. They were all alive, all where he could get to them if something happened. The sharp tang of antiseptics and blood were still strong, but stronger still was the sound of their breathing. In and out. Alive.

An hour later found Scott jerking awake at the sound of laboured, panicked breaths, a scream lingering in the air. His instincts kicked in and before Scott was really thinking about it, he had Stiles pulled into the curve of his body, chest to back. Stiles’s dragged his knees up, trying to curl in on himself, but Scott’s arm around his middle stopped him. Stiles’ hands gripped at his forearm, fingers shaking where they pressed hard into his skin. Scott rubbed his free hand up and down Stiles’ side under his shirt as he evened out his own breathing, encouraging his friend to breath with him.

Lydia’s hand joined Scott’s on Stiles’ side; her soft voice accompanied his as they tried to bring Stiles back to himself. Scott pressed his nose against the back of his neck, one hand coming up to lace their fingers together. Stiles gripped his hand hard, clinging to Scott as if Stiles thought he was going to disappear into thin air.

“Breath,” Scott murmured, “You’re safe. We did it. We won. He’s not here. He can’t get to you. Just breath. Breath with me.” Stiles made a protesting noise, but Lydia shushed him. She cupped his cheek, and pressed one of Stiles’ hands against her chest above her breasts as she took deep, deliberate breaths. It took a few minutes, but eventually Stiles’ breathing returned to normal.

Lydia backed away first. Scott was slower to pull away. Besides, Stiles didn’t seem inclined to let him go at the moment. Scott didn’t push it. Everyone else seemed to be clinging to someone, even Derek had a hand on Cora’s shoulder as they gathered around the two of them. They’d really come together as a pack and Scott didn’t think he’d ever been more grateful as Allison pressed a steaming mug of hot chocolate into Stiles’ hands. She steadied his hands with her own. The soft, reassuring smile Scott had fallen in love with graced her lips as she urged Stiles’ to take a sip.

Her eyes met Scott’s over Stiles’ shoulder and they crinkled at the corners. They’d long since discussed what was left of their feelings, but Scott was still coming to terms with the fact that she was now moving forward in a relationship with Isaac. All in all, he wanted her to be happy and, if Isaac was it, then Scott could get over it.

“Better?” Scott asked from where he still had his face pressed against Stiles’ shoulder. He traced the tip of his nose across Stiles’ skin as he breathed him in. A part of Scott wanted to rub his face against Stiles’ neck, to scent him, his wolf curling warm inside his chest at the idea, but it had been weeks since they’d last even cuddled and Scott didn’t want to push it.

Instead of answering out loud, Stiles nodded. His hands still shock where they were wrapped around the mug, but his heart rate was slowing to normal. The smell of fear and distress was starting to dissipate. The self-loathing, however, remained strong in Scott’s nose.

Scott didn’t have any words to offer Stiles that he hadn’t said before, so he just rubbed his hands up and down his sides. Stiles relaxed back into him by degrees until his back was pressed completely to Scott’s chest. The feeling drew a sigh from Scott as he recalled the last time they’d been like this.

It had been after the ritual to find their parents and the nemeton. They’d been in Scott’s living room, watching the Princess Bride for the millionth time. Stiles had insisted. He needed a happy, mushy love story, and, no, Scott, P.S. I Love You doesn’t count as happy right now.

Scott had stretched out on the floor, back against the sofa as he let the DVD play through old trailers. The title menu had just popped up when Stiles came back from the kitchen, bowl of popcorn in hand, and seated himself between Scott’s legs. Stiles had made himself comfortable, looked over his shoulder to make sure Scott wasn’t protesting the situation, and settled in for the movie.

They’d been flip flopping between just friends, friends-with-benefits and maybe more, for months, ever since his last- and final- break up with Allison. Stiles had joked about being a rebound, and the termed hadn’t settled well with Scott. Stiles was so much more to him than a rebound, and he’d said as much. Stiles easily laughed it off, something distant in his eyes. After that, they’d just kept falling into bed together, making out in the locker room after practice, sitting close on movie nights. Pushing the boundaries of their friendship in new and old ways.

“You’re warm,” Stiles commented as his head lolled back on Scott’s shoulder. Scott snorted and pulled him closer.

“You’re freezing.” Stiles hummed in agreement as Scott’s warmth soaked into his skin. The mug was almost empty and the rest of the group had moved to the kitchen in search of their own morning- afternoon - pick me up. They sat in silence; Scott pulled Stiles as tight to his body as he could with the hope that more of his own warmth would seep into his friend.

“Okay, you officially have nothing to eat, Scott,” Isaac grumbled as he tromped back into the living room. Scott knew it was a lie; he’d been the one to do the shopping in the first place, but there sure wasn’t enough food to feed his whole pack.

“IHOP?” Stiles asked, face brightening and eyes shining as he turned to look at Scott. He looked so much like himself, like he had before their lives had gone to hell, that it took Scott by surprise. He had to swallow before he managed to grin back and nod. Stiles grinned and Scott swore the air was punched out of him at the sight.

He let Stiles out of the circle of his body and watched as he bounded up the stairs to probably ‘borrow’ more of Scott clothes. None of his clothes that Stiles took ever made it back to his closet, but that was okay. Because none Stiles’ clothes that Scott borrowed were returned either.

Lydia raised an eyebrow and they all shared a look between them. If not for the sinking feeling in his stomach and the look on his pack’s faces, he could almost believe it was all a dream. That he really had his friend back, but they had a long way to go before anything could resemble what normal had became in Scott and Stiles’ life.

* * *

Anything that Scott had glimpsed of the old Stiles was gone by the time his friend made it back down stairs. Everyone else had broken off into groups to go change; Isaac had left with Allison and Lydia. He hadn’t been more than a few inches away from her the whole time they’d been at the house. Scott understood. He’d been listening to the sounds of Stiles banging around upstairs while the rest of them had made plans. He’d had to resist the urge to knock on the door to the bathroom while Stiles was in the shower when he’d gone to change his own clothes.

“Where’d everyone go?” Stiles asked. He was as far from Scott as he could get in the small entryway, eyes looking everywhere but at Scott.

“They went to get cleaned up. We’re supposed to meet them there in twenty.” Scott toyed with his keys and all of Stiles’ attention was suddenly focused on the movement.

“We’re taking the bike?” Stiles’ voice was pitched high, a sign that his nerves were getting to him. Scott knew Stiles didn’t really like his bike, but he’d never seemed to have an issue riding it. Scott’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tilted his head to the side. He looked Stiles up and down, taking in his tapping foot, the nervous twitch in his hands and the way he was still staring at Scott’s keys.

“I didn’t know it would be a problem?” It was more of a question than a statement. Scott was used to Stiles’ nervous twitching, looked forward to it even, especially now. It was just something that made up his best friend. The nogitsune had been way too still. “The Jeep’s still at your place and we only had so many cars to spare. I can always call Allison and get them to pick us up.”

Stiles frowned at the suggestion and finally looked up at Scott’s eyes. The same haunted look Scott remember from last night was back. There was the tang of fear in the air and Scott didn’t understand what Stiles could be scared about. He’d rode on Scott’s bike a number of times now. They’d gotten past that, or so he’d thought.

“Look man, it’s not a big deal,” Scott tried reassuring his friend as he pulled out his phone when Stiles still hadn’t answered. Stiles’ eyes went wide and he shook his head hard. Scoot didn’t know if it was towards calling their friend’s or if he was trying to shake off whatever had come over him.

“No, it’s cool. It’s good. No problem, Scotty boy. I was just thinking about that stack of pancakes I’m going to be digging into in fifteen minutes.” Stiles grinned at him as he brushed past Scott and out the door. Scott saw right through the facade. He’d know Stiles their whole lives. He hadn’t been able to fool Scott when they were six and he sure couldn’t do it now that Scott was a werewolf.

It was even more obvious when Stiles awkwardly tried to get behind Scott on the bike without touching him. It took a good five minutes for Scott to convince Stiles that he actually needed to hold on. And when Stiles’ hands did touch his shoulders, they were shaking so hard Scott could feel it all the way down his back. Something was definitely wrong here.

Things really started to get confusing when Stiles was suddenly pressing close against his back at a red light. Arms wrapped around his waist and Scott could feel Stiles’ breathe out in a sigh through his tee shirt. Scott gave Stiles’ hand a reassuring squeeze as they pulled away from the light. Stiles seemed to relax even more.

Breakfast was only slightly awkward. All of their pack knew that they’d been messing around for last few months; they knew that Stiles’ was tactile to the point of it getting uncomfortable. Except Stiles’ had never pushed it quite this far before.

They sat hip to hip, Stiles’ fitted into the curve of Scott’s side like he belonged there. Which he did, if anyone bothered to ask Scott about it. Stiles was more his animated self than he had been at the house, but the smell of fear still lingered in the air, tainting his friend’s usual scent. It wasn’t just Scott imagining things either. Isaac could smell it, too. He kept giving them worried looks. He should have figured the other werewolves in the room would be able to smell it, but he hadn’t really thought about how strong the smell really was since Stiles’ was practically attached to him at the moment.

They sat like that through the whole meal, then when it came time to leave, Stiles’ seemed to do a three sixty. He insisted on riding with Allison instead of letting Scott take him home. It would be easier, he’d argued, since it was on the way to her house. And they had room for one more person, since Lydia was riding back with Aiden. Scott had almost tried to persuade him to come back over, marathon some movies and quote them back and forth like they used to, except Stiles’ had back peddled away from him when Scott had taken a step towards him.

It could have been played off as a stumble, but Scott knew and so did the rest of them. Allison ended the argument by dragging Stiles to her car. She threw Scott an apologetic look over her shoulder as he watched Stiles scramble into the back seat of her silver sedan.

“He’ll come around,” Lydia reassured him, squeezing his arm as she followed Aiden to his bike. Kira echoed the sentiment, but something hollow settled in his stomach. Scott had known that things wouldn’t go back to how they had once been, that it would take weeks, months, maybe even years, before Stiles would be back to his usual self.

The day had gone from kind of okay to really strange in a matter of a few hours. Not that Scott wasn’t used to his life taking strange turns- hello, werewolf- but this definitely ranked high on his what-the-fuck-scale. Stiles basically clinging to him and then all but falling over himself to get away from him did little to reassure Scott that things were starting to feel normal again.

The smell of fear still clung to his nose and just that made his chest clench tight in anxiety. Scott knew there would be backlash to what they’d done, what they’d had to do, but he really didn’t think he could handle his best friend- maybe potential boyfriend- being scared of him. He couldn’t lose Stiles, and if Stiles was scared of him, that’s what would happen. Scott couldn’t deal with that.

* * *

The following two weeks of Scott’s life were the most confusing weeks ever. Even with all the werewolf shit, nothing really compared to having to deal with Stiles ping ponging between clinging to Scott like a squid and then avoiding him completely. If Stiles wasn’t acting perfectly normal, or as normal as Stiles could get, around every other member of their little group, Scott would have thought he’d walked away with two personalities after the nogitsune. But no. Stiles was only acting weird around Scott.

Even his smell was confusing. It alternated between a mix of overjoyed and attraction to depression and distress. Scott had caught Stiles staring longingly at him from the other end of the lunch table a number of times when Stiles had been the one to put himself as far away from Scott as he could. Scott didn’t get it.

If Stiles was really afraid of him, he wouldn’t hold Scott’s hand between classes. Hell, wouldn’t hold Scott’s hand in class. He wouldn’t pick Scott up in the mornings as he tried to hide the dark circles still clinging under his eyes. Scott knows Stiles; if Stiles is scared of something, nine times out of ten he’s going to run away from it. But that’s not what he was doing and Scott couldn’t wrap his head around what was going on.

He knew it wasn’t just him imagining things. Allison had pointed it out to him, too. When she’d asked him if he knew what was up with Stiles, Scott’s only answer had been a resounding no. No, he didn’t know what was going on with Stiles. And it was really starting to freak him the fuck out.

The last three days had been the absolute worst. He hadn’t seen or heard from Stiles except for in passing in class and in the hallway. He’d convinced Lydia to trade seats with him in all of his classes so he could sit down the row behind Scott. He’d only waved to Scott in short bursts before he was taking off in the other direction.

Scott had been pulling long shifts at the clinic to help at home the past two weeks.. Scott’s mom refused to let him chip in on bills, but she couldn’t stop him from going grocery shopping or changing the oil on her car for her. All of it left him with very little time to study, let alone go banging down Stiles’ door to find out what the hell was going on.

He’d called and texted when he’d gotten a chance but Stiles never replied. So by the time Scott made it to Stiles’ house Friday evening, a bag of curly fries and McNuggets in one hand and Frosties in the other; he was torn between worry and being rightly pissed off.

Instead of knocking- no free hands- he kicked at the door just hard enough that Stiles couldn’t ignore it. Scott could hear the T.V. and smell Stiles from where he was standing and when there wasn’t the immediate sound of footsteps coming to the door, Scott kicked the door hard enough to shake it on its frame.

This time Scott heard grumbling as Stiles came to answer the door. The look on his friend’s face spoke volumes about Stiles avoiding him when he opened the door to find Scott standing there. His scent flared in panic, followed by lust, then fear. It all rolled into one, managing to give Scott a headache and heart attack all in one go.

“Scott!” Stiles sounded surprised, which hurt Scott even more. What had Stiles expected him to do? Accept the fact that his best friend was avoiding him completely after they had fought a literal demon together? That Scott would just roll over and ignore what was going on? That Scott didn’t care in the first place? It was past time for him to set what ever conclusions Stiles had came to straight.

“You shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve been avoiding me for three days, Stiles.” Scott brushed past him into the house and headed right into the living room where Stiles had paused Breaking Bad. “I brought curly fries.”

Scott held out his peace offering towards Stiles, who had wearily followed him and was watching with a frown from the doorway. Stiles stared hard at the bag, glanced up at Scott’s sheepish grin, and padded over to the couch with a sigh. He tried to make a grab for the bag and sit on the other side of the couch but Scott moved the bag out of his reach without a second thought. Sometimes his werewolf reflexes did come in handy outside of a fight.

“You want the fries, you have to sit beside me,” Scott said as he indicated the couch with his chin. Stiles glared at him and flopped down beside Scott, muttering under his breath about asshole werewolf best friends and their stupid reflexes.

“Can I have my fries now, Mr. Bossy-pants?” Stiles asked as he crossed his arms over his chest, an honest to god pout on his face. Scott raised an eyebrow and settled in, keeping the food just out of Stiles’ reach.

“Are we going to talk about why you’ve become some hybrid squid who seems to love yet fear me at the same time and avoids me for days on end and worries me needlessly until I actually have to break down your door?” Stiles opened his mouth and then promptly closed it. He stared at the coffee table, chewing on his bottom lip. It gave Scott time to take in what he was wearing, Scott’s old pair of TMNT sleep pants and his old Jack Off Jill shit. Both of which had been missing for months and Scott knew for a fact Stiles hated Jack Off Jill, had harped on their choice of name and lyrics long enough that the arguments were embedded into Scott’s brian.

“Yeah,” Stiles relented after a minute of Scott staring at him and Stiles firmly not looking at Scott. The answer was soft. Soft enough that Scott wouldn’t have heard it if he didn’t have enhanced hearing.

Scott handed over the bag without another word. He let Stiles settle into his food before he said anything else. He seemed to be waiting for it, eating slower than usual.

“So? Do you need me to ask or will you just tell me?” Stiles shrugged. Scott guessed it was answer enough.

“Dude, I would go to hell and back for you. You are my Eurydice. You know you can tell me anything. I could never hate you for anything, Stiles. Can you please tell me why you’ve been avoiding me?” Scott took a deep breath and stared expectantly at him.

“Really? Eurydice? That’s what you went with? I thought I taught you mythology better than that, Scott. Really. Why am I the woman, any way? Are you saying I’m feminine? I mean I know I do like to dress flamboyantly sometimes and I do actually know what mauve is, but that’s not the point.”

“Stiles!” Scott shouted, exasperated, and Stiles pulled his rant up short. He looked at Scott for a moment, then down at his lap. He shrugged again and Scott was really about to lose his hard earned control, when Stiles started talking.

“Look Scott, I know I mean a lot to you, and you know that goes both ways. Obviously, if I didn’t we wouldn’t be screwing around as much as we are- were, but a lot has happened. You know that. I did things. Horrible, terrible things and I still have nightmares. I still wake up screaming, but I guess at least I’m waking up.” Scott scooted closer, and, when Stiles didn’t protest, pulled him into the curve of his body.

He could feel how bad Stiles was shaking, but Scott didn’t interrupt him. Stiles needed to get this out. Scott would be there to put him back together again. Just like he always would be.

“I can still hear him in my head sometimes, whispering things in my ear, telling me how good it would feel to tear into someone, make them hurt. I can even feel him sometimes. When I’m alone at night, it’s like he’s in my room with me and I know- I know he’s not. He can’t be. He’s gone for good and he can’t get to me anymore. But that doesn’t help.” Stiles clutched at the paper bag in his lap hard enough to rip the side. Scott gently rescued the food and placed it on the table. Then he pulled Stiles back into his arms, practically in his lap.

“Stiles...” Scott tried, but Stiles shook his head.

“No. That’s not even the worst of it. I-” Stiles swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. “The nightmares are all the same. All of them. Every single fucking night I dream about stabbing my best friend in the stomach and fucking enjoying it, Scott. It’s like a bad movie on repeat and I have to fucking live with it for the rest of my life. I have to live with the fact that I tried to kill the person I love and the icing on the cake is that I get to relive the memories every night.” Stiles choked on his words and Scott buried his face in Stiles’ hair.

He wanted to tell Stiles he was wrong, that none of this was his fault, that Scott would never blame him for it, but Stiles was taking a deep breath and more words were rushing out.

“You’re like this perfect person, Scott, and don’t fucking argue about it. You are. You will put your life on the line for every single person in your pack, sacrifice yourself over and over again for the people you love. Hell, for people you don’t even know. You’re this shining golden example of all that’s good and right in this world and I’m fucking tainted. I’ve done things, seen and enjoyed things I never should have and I have no right to want to be beside you. No right to want to touch you and be loved by you even if it’s the only fucking thing I want.” The last few words were muffled against Scott’s chest and then it was as if Stiles ran out of steam.

There were no tears, but Stiles breathed heavily against Scott’s chest and felt like he was going to shake out of his own skin. Scott carded his fingers through Stiles’ hair as he tried to find the words he needed to make this right. They’d all said it before, would keep saying it until Stiles started believing it, that it hadn’t been his fault. Nothing that had happened while he was possessed was his fault.

“Stiles, you know it-” Stiles cut him off with a muffled sound of annoyance and a punch to the chest.

“Don’t fucking say it wasn’t me. That’s what everyone tells me and I’m sick of it. I know it wasn’t me. I know. But that doesn't change the fact that I was there. I was alive and well in my own head to see him try to murder my dad. See him sink that katana in your stomach and twist. He taunted me, Scott. He laughed at hurting you and took pleasure from the fact that it hurt me, too. So don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault, that it wasn’t me. I was still there. I still had to feel it.”

Scott squeezed Stiles closer. He actually was in Scott’s lap at that point, knees pulled up to his chest and feet pressed against the arm of the couch. His face was pressed against the crook of Scott’s neck so Scott couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Okay. Fine. But, and don’t interrupt me, damn it, I have a lot to say, too, you know? You might have been there Stiles, you saw things you should have never had to see. No one should ever go through that. I know we can’t make it just go away, but if you’ll let me, I wanna make it better.” Scott nuzzled into the side of Stiles’ head. His hands stroked up and down Stiles’ back as he tried to calm him down enough to stop his shaking. The last thing he wanted was for Stiles to have a full blown panic attack.

“You’re far from tainted, Stiles. Even though you’re a dick sometimes, you are one of the kindest people I know. Remember when you saved Derek’s life? You hated his guts and yet you swam in a pool for hours just to keep him alive. What kind of bad person does that? And trying to sacrifice yourself...” Scott squeezed Stiles hard as he brought it up. The memory was still fresh in his mind and Scott didn’t think he would ever forget it.

“If anyone in this town deserves to be loved, it’s you, Stiles.” Scott put all the emotion he felt for the man in his lap into his words. It was as close to saying ‘I love you’ as he could get before his words stuck in his throat. It seemed to be enough for now though, because Stiles nodded against his neck and started to wiggle out of Scott’s lap.

“You promise not to avoid me anymore?” Scott asked, one arm still wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders. He wasn’t willing to let him go much further than the seat right next to him.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered. “I’ll make it a point to be my general annoying squid self everyday of the week.” Scott scoffed out a laugh and punched Stiles lightly on the arm.

“That’s all I’m asking for. Now are we going to watch a few episodes? Also, you might want to eat that Frostie. It’s starting to melt.” Scott settled himself into the corner of the couch, Stiles a warm weight against his side. They shared the remaining curly fries and the McNuggets. Stiles managed to spill some of his Frostie down Scott’s shirt. So Scott just stripped out of his shirt and leaned back against the couch.

Stiles gave him a once over and rolled his eyes.

“No one should be allowed to be that ripped. Look at you. What the fuck, Scott? It should be illegal. It probably is in like, Wyoming or something. You’ll get a ticket because your abs are too awesome.” For all his grumbling, Stiles sure didn’t waste his time settling back against Scott’s side. Scott snorted without comment. He was more than used to Stiles babbling about the unrealness of his abs, was even used to the warm hand that settled over his stomach, but there was a ghost of emotion to it that they’d both ignored.

Scott knew he loved Stiles, had for a long time now. Hell, since maybe even before Allison, just in a different way. He’d wanted to say the words, ask Stiles if maybe they could go one actual dates instead of dates disguised as bro hang outs, but then everything happened all at once and Scott didn’t get the chance. He’d even thought he’d never get the chance again, for a while there. But now that he had it, Scott couldn't bring himself to ask, to say ‘I love you, and not in a best friends, but in the I want to spend the rest of my life with you way.’

Stiles had been through so would and Scott didn’t want to add any more to that. Especially if the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Scott didn’t flinch away and Stiles didn’t move. That was how Stiles fell asleep not two episodes later. Scott smiled down at his friend, fingers carding through his hair. Stiles looked peaceful, and not wanting to wake him yet, Scott watched another two episodes before he couldn’t stay awake anymore.

“Come on, Stiles,” Scott whispered as he shook Stiles, “I need to go home.” Stiles grumbled in his sleep. A frown marred his face before he pressed it against Scott’s neck.

“No,” Stiles said petulantly as his arms wound around Scott’s waist. “I have a bed. You can stay.”

“I didn’t pack anything and my mom wanted to have breakfast tomorrow. It’s her first day off in weeks,” Scott replied with a laugh. His smile was fond as Stiles nuzzled into his skin. Scott couldn’t really bring himself to pull away.

“You’ve borrowed my clothes before. Besides, you have clothes over here. And we can set an alarm and everything. You can make it on time. Please, Scott?” It was the last part that sealed the deal, and Stiles knew it if the grin Scott could feel against his neck was anything to go by.

“Okay, okay. No begging needed,” Scott laughed as he stood up. Stiles managed to keep himself plastered to Scott’s side anyways. Scott detached himself long enough to leave a message for his mom, just in case, and throw away the trash. Stiles turned off the T.V. and Playstation and was waiting at the bottom of the stairs when Scott came out of the kitchen.

Stiles plastered himself back to Scott as soon as he was within reach. They managed to make it up the stairs without falling over, somehow.

“Squid,” Scott muttered, tone fond as he deposited Stiles on the bed and stripped out of his jeans.

“Oh, we’re going pantsless tonight?” Stiles teased as Scott shoved him over and slid under the covers beside him.

“Some of us have higher body temperatures than others and don’t have to worry about freezing our balls off,” Scott snicked and Stiles punched him in the middle of the chest.

“It was the one time, you dick. And it was fucking twenty-two outside. When the fuck does it ever get twenty-two degrees here, Scott? Never that’s fucking when. My balls were not prepared,” Stiles said as he pressed himself against Scott’s front, hands splayed out across his chest. Scott wrapped his arms tight around his friend.

“Your balls are safe tonight. It’s a warm seventy-seven.” Scott grinned against Stiles’ hair and was rewarded with a pinch. That lead to a shoving match until Scott fell out of the bed.

“You loser, you aren’t supposed to let me win,” Stiles complained over the edge of the bed.

“Who says I let you win?” Scott said as he crawled back into bed, letting Stiles’ settle back into the same position as before.

“Werewolf, hello,” Stiles grumbled indignantly, “No way you didn’t let me win.”

“Does it matter?” Scott asked, voice gone a little serious. Stiles could hold a grudge over the smallest things. Scott needed to know he was in the clear.

Stiles laughed and shook his head, “Nah, you’re good. You’re just cute when someone picks on you. Now let me be a hybrid squid Eurydice and go to sleep.”

“Fucking god, you’re not going to let that go are you?” Scott could feel Stiles smirk against his shoulder. It was answer enough.

Scott wrapped his arms around Stiles’ middle, pulling him as close as he could. He ignored the fact that they had basically confessed to each other hours ago. If Stiles wasn’t going to bring it up, neither was Scott. If all Stiles need from him was someone to cling to and touch to keep him grounded and nothing more, Scott could do that. As long as he had Stiles in his life, he didn’t care.

* * *

Scott’s phone rang the next night and when the screen lit up with Stiles’ name, Scott couldn’t hide his grin. Kira gave him a knowing look as he excused himself from the table. He heard Malia whisper something in Kira’s ear, but didn’t pay attention as he exited the restaurant.

“Hey,” Scott greeted, almost overjoyed that Stiles had even called in the first place. The snicker he could hear across the line told him just how much emotion was pushing through into his voice.

“Dude, you saw me not even 12 hours ago. No need to sound that happy,” Stilles chuckled into the phone. Scott rubbed at the back of his head and shrugged even though Stiles couldn’t see him.

“What’s up?” He wasn’t going to bring up the fact that he’d had to all but chase Stiles down to see him. That was better left unsaid at this point.

“Uh.” Scott could hear the hesitation in his voice and he braced himself. “Do you think you could come over again tonight?” And that so wasn’t what Scott had been expecting. He’d expect Stiles to going back to being around him constantly at school and reinstating movie nights, but he’d kind of figured Stiles would still keep himself distant to a degree. He could deal with being wrong on that.

“Yeah, sure. I mean, I’m eating with Kira and Malia right now but they’re getting pretty handsy- Malia is getting handsy- so it shouldn’t be much longer. Did you want take out or what?” Scott watched Kira and Malia rub noses through the window. Scott grinned at how happy they were together. He focused his attention back on Stiles in time to hear a tentative, “Pizza?”

“Pineapple and sausage, per usual?” Scott asked with a chuckle. He could hear Stiles winding up in defense of his tastes when he cut him off. “I’ll see you at eight. Sound good?”

“Y-yeah, see you then.” The line went dead and Scott raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t often that Stiles stumbled over his words, even in the middle of a long rant. Scott might have put it down to nerves, but there had been a lilt to his voice that Scott wasn't really used to.

He stared at his phone for a moment, deciding that if it was really anything he’d be able to address it when he saw Stiles that night. Otherwise, he put it out of his mind. He had bigger things to worry about, like the way Malia had migrated from her seat to Kira’s lap. Scott was happy that Malia was making progress, that she’d hit it off with Kira right off the bat, but they really needed to work on what was considered appropriate as a public display of affection. Sliding her hand into her girlfriend’s shirt wasn’t one of them.

Kira wasn’t helping the situation. She had made no effort to dislodge Malia from her lap and in fact seemed to be encouraging her with kisses. Sometimes Scott really didn’t know what to do with his pack.

* * *

Three weeks later and Stiles’ had progressed from asking Scott to come over to just sneaking in his window at ten at night. Scott didn’t think he’d slept by himself for more than a day since he’d stormed over to Stiles’ house that Friday night. He’d basically spent that weekend at Stiles’ house, watching movies and fighting over Call of Duty until Monday rolled around.

Monday night found Scott waking to the sound of Stiles falling through his window near midnight. It had taken a little prodding on Scott’s part to get Stiles to admit that he was sleeping better when he was with Scott. At that, Scott had scooted over, and Stiles had slid in beside him. That was that.

Everything was smooth sailing after that. They easily fell into a routine. Stiles snuck in his window despite Scott’s insistence that he just use the front door; it is what it’s there for, Stiles. Scott wrapped himself around Stiles, ignoring the way Stiles’ heart rate picked up and the way his own body reacted to being so close to Stiles on a nightly basis.

Scott got used to it eventually. More like his dick got used to it. Just because they’d fucked before didn’t mean he was going to push Stiles for sex when it was clear he needed time to settle back in his own skin. Stiles had no issues asking- demanding- for what he wanted out of Scott, so Scott was content to wait as long as he needed to.

Then it happened. It was a Friday night and they’d managed to get in bed before twelve for once. They’d both cracked down on school and Scott had taken a night off from working at Deaton’s to get as much of his homework done as he could. Stiles had been surprisingly helpful, quieter than usual and less distracted. Scott knew graduating meant as much to Stiles as it did to him, but he’d never really seen his friend buckle down quite like that. Not unless it was a Baddy of the Week Problem.

It hadn’t taken either of them long to fall asleep, but Scott woke to the sound of Stiles screaming just before three. Stiles flailed under the covers, managing to kick Scott in the shin before he could get his arms around him. By the time Scott got him pinned, Stiles had kicked off the covers and the pillows and was now whimpering Scott’s name.

The sound went right to Scott’s heart, clogging his throat and tightening his chest. He swallowed hard before he forced Stiles’ name out. Scott shook his friend hard as he called out to him again. It didn’t take much.

Stiles’ eyes flew open as his hands scrambled against Scott’s arms. There were tear tracks down his cheeks. His breath stuttered out of his chest, eyes blown wide in panic and staring at Scott like he couldn’t believe he was real.

“Hey,” Scott whispered with a crooked grin. Stiles’ blinked a few times like he was trying to dispel whatever he’d seen in his dream. He probably was.

“Hey.” The word was choked, but Stiles gave Scott’s arms a squeeze. Scott settled his weight on top of Stiles and he sighed into it as Scott carded the fingers of one hand through his hair.

“You wanna talk about it?” Scott asked because he had to. Because he needed Stiles to be able to trust him like that, trust him with this.

Stiles didn’t say anything for a long moment. His eyes wandered across Scott’s face until he seemed to find what he needed. He nodded, hands cupping across Scott’s shoulder blades and then down his chest to rest against his stomach.

“I- It was just like all the other ones. It’s after the Sheriff's station b-blows up.” Stiles swallowed hard and Scott nodded, trying to encourage him to go on. Stiles had always been the one to bottle everything up inside, hold his feelings close to his chest until he exploded with them.

“And we’re at Deaton’s office. You, Kira and I, except it’s not me. It’s him and he’s been planning this all along. Planning to get to you because he knows that’s how to get to me.” There are fresh tears sliding down his cheeks and Scott rubbed them away with his thumb, cupping Stiles’ cheek. Stiles leaned into it and sighed, all the tension seeping out of him.

“He knows how to hit me where it hurts. That it’s always just been my dad and me. That it was always you and me. That there had never been anyone else, and I can feel the katana in my-his- hands and then it’s me stabbing you. Me feeling your skin give. He gives me one moment of freedom and it’s so I can feel that. So I’ll remember, that this is what happens if I fight him.” Stiles’ words turned bitter and Scott knows he’s never said this to anyone, never even admitted it to himself.

“Stiles...” Scott crushed him to his chest without a second thought, rolling them over so Stiles is lying on top of him. He slid his hands under Stiles’ tee shirt, needing to feel skin against, to feel Stiles’ stuttering breaths.

Stiles doesn’t sob, but Scott felt tears soaking into his shoulder. This wasn’t a panic attack, it was a drain of built up emotion, of memories Stiles should never have in the first place. And if Scott could go back and change it, he would. Maybe he could have seen the signs sooner. Maybe he could have stopped this whole thing from happening. But maybes weren’t doing him any good right now.

So instead of wondering, Scott rubbed at Stiles’ back until he fell back asleep. His hands were pressed firm against Scott’s stomach, right over where the katana slid home. Scott rolled them back on their sides. Stiles’ hands slid out of his shirt as Scott situated them and fell back asleep. But Stiles’ hands were pressed back against Scott’s skin the next morning, like Stiles needed to know Scott was real- whole. That the physical wound had healed even if the mental ones would take time.

* * *

The next Friday found Scott working another late shift at Deaton’s. He’d spent the last week with Stiles sleeping with his hands shoved up his shirt. Scott was a little perplexed, to be honest. He’d been mulling it over since he’d realized it was a trend. It didn’t matter how they fell asleep, Scott curled around Stiles’ back, Stiles on his stomach, Stiles’ wrapped around Scott, Stiles always ended up shoving his hands up Scott’s shirt by the end of the night. In fact, for the last three nights, that was just how Stiles’ fell asleep.

Scott would ask, but it felt like one of those things that Stiles would hide away. And considering they’d already had one big breakthrough in the last two weeks, he wasn’t willing to push Stiles further than necessary.

He gave the office a sensory once over, nodded to himself, and locked up. He checked his phone on the way to his bike. No messages from Stiles. That probably meant he would be sneaking in Scott’s window later that evening despite Scott’s insistence that he just use the fucking door.

Despite the shit he gave Stiles about it, Scott didn’t really mind. He could just lock his window, but then that would leave Stiles banging on his window at two in the morning. The neighbors probably wouldn’t appreciate that.

Scott shrugged and stuffed his phone in his pocket. Stiles was a habitual person and now he had a habit of showing up at Scott’s house. In Stiles’ terms, if he did it more than twice, it was a habit. Scott didn’t consider it a bad one either way.

Fifteen minutes later, Scott was opening his front door when Stiles’ scent hit him. He was used to smelling Stiles in his house at this point, but this was fresh, not the hours old smell he was used to. A set of keys sat on the table in the hall, his prized Tiana keychain smiling up at him. Scott had ordered it for Stiles last Valentine's day because they’d scored all the stores with in fifty miles of Beacon Hills one weekend looking for that one damn keychain.

“I see you decided to use the door finally,” Scott called as he took the stairs two at a time. He found Stiles stretched out on his stomach on his bed, 3DS in hand. Stiles looked up from his game, blinked at Scott a few times, and then looked back down.

“Yeah, you’d been bitching pretty hard about me coming in through the window, so I figured I’d give in, just this once. Don’t expect it all the time now,” Stiles said, all of his attention focused back on his game.

“I didn’t expect it in the first place,” Scott huffed with an eye roll. He threw his backpack on the floor and headed for his bathroom. The room was already humid, a used towel thrown haphazardly in the laundry basket.

“Did you help yourself to a shower as well as my clothes?” Scott chuckled as he stripped, not bothering with the door.

“Yes, Scott I’m just invading your house and your life. I’m like a parasite you can’t get rid of. Not that you’d get rid of me in the first place, you lo- Holy shit, Scott! You can’t just do that to a guy!” Stiles exclaimed. He sounded surprised but not like he really minded. Scott looked over his shoulder from where he was turning the shower on. Stiles stared at him, flushed and his scent flaring with arousal.

“It’s not like you’ve never seen me naked before- had you hands on my naked body, in fact, and considering you’ve being actively living in my house for the last month, I’m allowed to run around in all my glory in my own bathroom.” Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and made one of the weirdest sounds Scott had ever heard. He raised an eyebrow and Stiles seemed torn between openly staring at Scott’s body and rolling back over. In the end, he settled facing the bathroom, sneaking glances over his game like Scott wouldn’t notice.

“Just fucking shower so we can fuck- I mean sleep!” Stiles seemed even more embarrassed with his self at the slip up, hiding his face behind his game while Scott chuckled and went about his business.

Stiles was curled on his other side when Scott got out, having lost interest when Scott had actually gotten in the shower. He tensed when the bed dipped as Scott climbed in. Stiles glanced over his shoulder and then down and back up.

“I see you put on clothes,” Stiles grumbled as he flopped back on the bed. The 3DS had been abandoned at some point during Scott’s shower and was sitting on the bedside table.

“Would you have rathered I’d not put on anything at all?” Scott asked as he settled down beside him. He grinned at Stiles when he rolled over. Stiles smiled back and promptly shoved his hands under Scott’s shirt.

“Maybe.” It was muffled between the sheets and Scott’s chest, but Scott still heard it. He tensed out of reflex, and really, after the earlier comment, Scott shouldn’t have been surprised. He could feel Stiles hands twitch against his skin in response.

“I mean unless that’s not okay with you.” Stiles started to back peddle, trying to slid his hands out from under Scott’s shirt. Scott pressed his hand over Stiles’.

“It’s okay with me if it’s okay with you,” Scott reassured him, voice soft and tender. He slid a hand down Stiles’ side until it rested on his hip. Stiles turned his head to look at Scott, a slow grin stretching his lips.

“Yeah?” His voice was warm, excited in a way only Stiles could be. Scott grinned wide so his teeth flashed white in the light of the lamp.

“Definitely, yeah.” Scott leaned close; when their noses bumped and Stiles didn’t pull away, Scott pressed a soft kiss to his lips. Stiles leaned into it, fingers curling against Scott’s stomach. It was chaste despite the fact that they’d had their tongues basically down each others throats for months now. This was a confession, no words required. Until Stiles’ pulled back and instantly started running off at the mouth.

“I’ve wanted to do that for weeks,” Stiles already sounded breathless, despite the fact that they were still just laying in bed. “But everything had been weird between us and I know what we had wasn’t exactly a permanent thing. And-” Stiles paused mid sentence, eyebrows furrowing together and then, with a deep breath, he continued on. “And I was scared. Scared that you wouldn’t want to touch me anymore.”

Scott’s throat tightened. He’d figured that was part of it. It was such a Stiles thing to be worried about, but after everything they’d been through, Scott knew he had a long life of reassuring Stiles ahead of him.

“Of course I want to touch you,” Scott breathed out against Stiles’ lips, tugging him closer until Stiles’ arms were trapped between them. “I always want to touch you.”

Warm hands slid under the back of Stiles’ shirt, fingers spread wide so Scott could take in as much smooth, cool skin as he could. Scott’s body temperature was rocketing higher as arousal swirled low in his stomach, cock twitch with interest in the proceeding.

“And what do you mean not permanent? Who ever said anything about it not being permanent?” He tried to keep his voice light, keep emotion out of it, but Scott had never really been good at hiding his feelings. He didn’t fair much better this time than all the rest.

“No one? But we both agreed it was just a friends with benefits kinda thing, unless you...” Stiles pulled back to search his eyes; Scott knew exactly what he’d find there. He braced himself for Stiles reaction, certain he was going to be kicked out of his own bed.

“Oh my god, how long?” Stiles asked, voice exacerbated. His eyes were wide, mouth hanging open in his usual expression of shock. Scott had to work not to look away.

“Um, since before the nogitsune, probably longer,” Scott admitted as he rubbed at the back of his head and finally glanced away. “I just didn’t realize it before then.” When Stiles didn’t pull away from him, and there was no donkey kicking going on, Scott looked back at his best friends turned maybe- hopefully- boyfriend.

Stiles was grinning like a maniac.

“You’re an idiot,” Stiles announced firmly and Scott really wanted to be offended, but Stiles was scooting closer and kissing him over and over, little quick pecks of his lips against Scott. “A sunshine, oblivious idiot. Do you know how much I love you? Do you?”

“A lot?” Scott furthered a guess and was rewarded with a deeper kiss. He moaned into it as Stiles tongue flicked out to trace across his lips. God, he’d missed this.

“Yes, a lot. Always. Now get over here.” Stiles hauled him close by the neck of his shirt, tugging until they’d rolled over and Scott had settled on top of him. Scott went, happy and willing. Scott returned Stiles enthusiastic kiss with heat, hands palming up Stiles’ sides and bunching his shirt under his arms.

“Did you just make a Harry Potter reference?” Scott asked when they pulled back for air. Stiles’ fingers carded through Scott’s still wet hair, thoroughly making a mess of it as he hummed in approval.

“You caught that, did you? I’m rather proud of you, Scott. Hey, now that you’re my boyfriend, I think you’re required to sit down and watch all of Star Wars with me.” Scott made a pained noise and buried his face in Stiles’ neck. He knew that look, cocky grin and mischievous twinkle in his eye; there was no way Scott was going to get out of watching that series now.

“Who said I was your boyfriend?”

“I did,” Stiles replied with surety, “You’re my boyfriend. And my best friend. Best boy friend.” Scott knew what he’d be getting himself into before hand. He really shouldn’t have been surprised.

“I think it’s time we shut you up,” Scott groused, nosing his way across Stiles’ cheek to his lips so he could nip at them.

“I’d love to see you try, Scotty boy,” Stiles challenged, wiggling under Scott until he was in a more comfortable position. The action lined their hips up, half-hard cocks pressing together through cotton. Stiles fingers tightened against Scott’s scalp, a soft groan slipping past his lips as he thrust up against Scott. Scott sucked in a sharp breath as his cock dragged against cotton, precome quickly staining the front of his boxers.

“Of course you would,” Scott laughed against Stiles lips. He pulled back enough to tug Stiles shirt up and off, tossing it to the floor beside the bed. Stiles shifted under him as Scott slid his hands down his arms, tracing the patterns his moles formed across his skin. Scott leaned in to follow the lines with his lips, teeth scraping across the tender part of Stiles’ under arm.

Stiles jerked back with a shocked gasp and reached around to swat at Scott with an affronted look. Scott chuckled and kissed the place better, tongue laving across Stiles’ skin until he shivered.

Thumbs rubbed across his nipples, forcing a whine out of Stiles mouth, back arching up off the bed as he searched for more contact. Scott leaned down to kiss him again, already missing how Stiles’ lips felt against his- missed his taste. He kept the kiss slow, taking his time to memorize every part of Stiles’ mouth. Stiles tasted like toothpaste and the chocolate he was fond of eating before he went to bed. He tasted like pack, like home.

Stiles’ hips thrust against Scott as he searched for friction, pushing at Scott’s shirt and trying to move things faster. But Scott shushed him, pinning Stiles’ hips to the bed with one hand and tugging his own shirt over his head by the back collar.

“I want to savour this,” Scott husked against the skin of Stiles’ cheek, sucking a small hickey into his jaw. Stiles grunted, shoving up hard against the hold Scott had on his hip.

“What am I, a fine wine? Haven’t I aged enough?” Stiles joked and Scott rolled his eyes. Holding firm, Scott traced his lips down, across Stiles collar bones to his nipples. If he couldn’t shut Stiles up, at least he could listen to more interesting commentary. Like Stiles moaning Scott’s name as he wiggled under him.

He tugged at the small nub with his teeth, just hard enough for Stiles to keen loudly and Scott to be glad that his mom usually worked night shifts. He had no desire to muffle any noises Stiles might make. Using his free hand, Scott rubbed his thumb of the nipple currently not in his mouth. Stiles’ hands jerked hard enough in Scott’s hair to burn, but Scott didn’t let up. He tongued at Stiles’ nipple, using lips and just a little teeth until a soft noise reminiscent of a sob sounded above him.

“Fucking tease,” Stiles had the air to get out, hips jerking in Scott’s firm hold. He held his own hips just above Stiles, close enough so Stiles could feel his heat, but not get any friction.

“You are being pretty mouthy,” Scott admonished, giving Stiles’ chest a break so he could pepper kisses across his stomach. He tugged the elastic of Stiles’ pants down enough to kiss each hip bone, keeping the comment about how Stiles should really eat more to himself. Rubbing his thumbs into the V of Stiles’ hips, Scott kissed down his happy trail, nuzzling at his stiff cock through his pants.

The sound Stiles made as Scott finally touched him caused Scott’s cock to jerk in response. He resisted rutting at the bad, wanting this to be about Stiles, wanting to draw it out as long as he could. He mouthed at the head of Stiles’ cock through his pants, keeping his hips firmly against the bed. Stiles planted his feet on either side of Scott’s body, giving a hard push upwards, but there was no give. Werewolf strength came in handy sometimes.

“Scott,” Stiles gasped, breathless already. Scott smirked, loving he could make Stiles sound that way, loving that he was allowed to make Stiles sound that way. Stiles was pushing at his head, trying to get what he wanted anyway he could.

Scott ignored each pull and tug, taking his time as traced every line of Stiles erection through his clothes. He mouthed at the head, before dragging his tongue down to suck at his balls. Stiles wiggled and made soft noises, fingers unbelievably tight in Scott’s hair.

Scott kept at it until he could feel Stiles thighs shaking against his ears from effort and pleasure. The front of Stiles Iron Man sleep pants was dark from Scott’s mouth and pre come, Stiles himself lax and quivering on the bed.

“Scotty,” Stiles whimpered, overstimulated and pupils blown wide. Stiles had always been easy to work up; pushing him into a quivering mess of clinging hands and need filled noises never took long. It maybe Scott want to care for and protect him even more. He wanted to hide this part of Stiles away forever so he was the only one who would ever get to see it.

“Yeah?” Scott asked, not really expecting much of an answer. Stiles’ response was to tug on Scott’s hair and shoulders, pulling him down until they were breathing against each other’s lips. Scott kissed him as he finally tugged Stiles’ pants and underwear down and off. Stiles’ startled gasp at the sudden lose of clothes drifted off into a whine when Scott finally wrapped his fingers around his cock.

Stiles thrust up into his hand, thighs trembling with the effort. Scott kissed each of his knees, easing Stiles hips back against the bed. There was no protest; Stiles settled back on the mattress, letting Scott stroke him with easy languid strokes.

Precome dribbled down his length, easing each stroke. Stiles hands had left his hair and settled on Scott’s shoulders. Fingers dug into his skin, but Scott didn’t mind. They’d come away from sex with their fair share of scratches and bruises. Besides, they’d be gone before Scott even fell asleep at the end of it.

Crawling back up Stiles’ body while still stroking him with one hand, Scott leaned in to pepper kisses across Stiles’ face, his lax mouth not giving Scott much to work with. Scott pushed his hand under his pillow, fingers closing around the tube of lube he kept there since he’d discovered the stuff back in middle school. It was worlds better for jacking off than lotion would ever be.

Scott dragged his lips back down Stiles’ body and popped the lube cap with his thumb. He spread the clear gel across his fingers, warming it up before he even considered touching Stiles with it. Stiles’ initial reaction to cold lube hadn’t been a pretty one. They remembered to never make that mistake again.

“Still with me?” Scott asked as he pressed his fingers against Stiles’ hole, circling the tight ring of muscle before slowly pushing in. Stiles whimpered, hips twitch up and back, searching for more pressure. Scott let go of his cock to trace his fingers across Stiles’ stomach. Muscles twitched under his touch while Stiles whined at the loss of a hand on his cock.

“Stiles?” Scott asked again, a teasing smirk stretching across his lips. He eased his finger in and out of his friend’s body, savoring the feeling of how warm he was inside before adding a second. Stiles squirmed at the extra stretch, a breathy sigh escaping his lips as he pressed back. The action forced Scott’s fingers in to the second knuckle.

“Yeah,” Stiles finally answered, his words more like breathy moans than anything, “Fuck, come on, Scotty.” Scott worked his fingers faster, knowing the whining lilt in Stiles voice better than anyone else. He was already strung out, hips moving in tiny increments agianst Scott’s hand, cock dripping precome down his length to pool on his belly.

Stiles was so sensitive, got so much from every little touch or press of hands, that it never took much to push him past the point of rational speech. Scott wondered just how far he could push him. How much teasing would it take until Stiles was begging him? How far could Scott push him until he was beyond words, beyond anything that wasn’t Scott and what he was doing to Stiles’s body?

That was something he’d have to talk to Stiles about later.

Scott nipped at Stiles knee, kissing the small hurt better when Stiles jerked and whined low at the bite. One broad palm soothed up and down Stiles’ side as Scott added a third finger, spreading them apart and stretching Stiles open. Scott growled when Stiles thrust down hard against his hand, his own cock jerking in need as tight muscles clenched around his digits.

“God, you feel good,” Scott breathed against Stiles’ skin, pulling his fingers free so he could rummage in his bed side drawer for a condom. “You always feel good.” He took a moment to nuzzle at the inside of Stiles thigh as he tore open the condom and slid it on.

“Always feel so good,” he husked. He cupped Stiles’ hips with both hands, dragging him down so he was settled in Scott’s lap. It took a few seconds of shifting around for Scott to get the right angle but once he got it, he slid in slow and easy.

Stiles whimpered, hands gripping hard at Scott’s biceps. Scott pressed his forehead against Stiles’ sternum, breathing hard as he got used to the feeling of his friend squeezing tight around him. If he’d been human, he’d have bruises on his biceps when this was all over.

Using his hold on Stiles’ hips, Scott set a slow rhythm, taking his time with each thrust of his hips. Stiles’ tiny noises of pleasure were muffled against Scott’s hair, his cock leaking and aching between their bellies.

Scott wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, hands stroking across every inch of skin they could reach, swallowing each other’s sounds and muffling them in turn. Stiles arched up against him, muscles tightening around Scott’s cock everytime he brushed across Stiles’ prostate.

“Know you got more than that,” Stiles gasped out between thrusts, and Scott chuckled, both surprised and not that Stiles could still manage to find the breath to be a sass at a time like this.

“Just like this,” Scott whispered against Stiles’ collar bone, but added more force behind his next thrust. Stiles’ next gasp was all pleasure and no sass. Scott worked them at that pace until he started to feel the tell-tell tingles of climax building in his belly, pushing him to move faster, but it was nothing compared to their usual rolls in the hay.

Scott reached between them and wrapped a hand around Stiles’ cock. Stiles jerked against him, his lips formed around a silent sound. It didn’t take more than four strokes and Stiles was spilling between them, head thrashing against the pillow and his fingers digging into Scott’s skin. Scoot wasn’t far behind him, burying his cock as deep as he could get, Stiles’ clinging to him, inside and out.

He slid himself down beside Stiles, not wanting to crush his friend beneath him. Stiles left his legs wrapped around Scott’s middle, following him onto his side. He pressed tight against Scott’s body, face against his neck. They laid there for a moment, catching their breath while Scott carded his fingers through Stiles’ hair and Stiles traced patterns across Scott’s back.

“That was...different,” Stiles breathed after a while, the words low and spoken against Scott’s skin. Scott tensed at the words, not sure if it was a good or bad thing. So he asked.

“Good, definitely good,” Stiles hummed, a content sound that tugged at Scott’s heart.

“Good enough to do again?” Scott asked after a beat. Stiles’ enthusiastic answer was to kiss Scott. And that was answer enough.

* * *

“I see you two finally figured it out,” Melissa commented the next morning when she came home to find Stiles sitting at their dinner table. Stiles blushed down his neck; Scott didn’t fare much better.

“Mom!” Scott gave her a pleading look, eyes jumping between her and his now boyfriend hiding his face in his bowl of CoCo Puffs.

“What?” Melissa leaned her hip against the counter and raised an eyebrow at him. “You think I didn’t know he’d been sneaking into the house for the last few weeks. Scott, I work long hours but I’m not oblivious.” Scott’s mouth opened, closed and then he sighed.

“I should have told you, I’m sorry.” Scott rubbed at the back of his head. His mom smiled at him and shook her head.

“I don’t mind, Scott. I’m just glad you do your own laundry now. And I expect safe sex, I know I taught you better than that.” She walked out of the kitchen to the sound of Stiles choking on air.

“How is your mom even real?” Stiles asked when he finally could breath again. He leaned back against Scott, who had moved to stand behind his chair when the choking started.

“It was easier than your telling your dad will be.” The look of pure terror on Stiles’ face shouldn’t have amused Scott as much as it did.

“I’m just going to ignore that that needs to happen. He can just walk in on us making out on the couch. The safe sex talk is not a talk I want to have with my dad. It’ll probably involve lots of hand waving and vague mentions of firearms.” Stiles shuddered at the thought and Scott leaned down to press a kiss against the top of his head.

“We faced down the alpha pack, I think we can handle your dad.” Scott slid into the seat beside Stiles and went back to drinking his first cup of coffee. Stiles gave him a dumbfounded look.

“You have meet my dad right?” Scott grinned and pecked him on the lips.

“Stiles, we’ve got this.” And if Stiles continued to grumble about it, that was okay. He’d stuck by Stiles’ side so far, Scott wasn’t planning to go anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a lot happier with this now than I was before. While I adore the sex from before, I feel like this new scene fits the piece a lot better than the other one. I hope you guys agree! Thank you for reading! ^0^


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